Second Chances
by GraniaMhaol
Summary: The Sheriff is dead, and England is getting back to his feet— along with a reformed Guy of Gisborne. But with Marian engaged to Robin and the people of Nottingham still less than fond of him, will he be able to stay on the right path? BBC Robin Hood AU.
1. Visitors

**Author's note: This story ignores pretty much everything after Season One, so forgive me. Also, trust me: this is going to get political and ugly, so don't let the frivolity of the first few chapters fool you. Guy/OC.**

Chapter One

Visitors

Sir Guy of Gisborne wasn't pleased. He leaned moodily against the ash tree that shaded the stables and watched Marian through the shock of dark hair that fell into his eyes. As usual, she was giving more affection to her horse—the handsome bay that _he_ had given her, he noted—than she'd ever shown him. After everything he'd done for her...

Well, he supposed he owed her something. When King Richard had returned, she'd managed to convince Robin to request a pardon for him, arguing that his role in—_removing_— Vasey was proof of his changed ways. He'd done his best to live up to her belief that he was capable of being a good man, and his being forced to confront all of the horrible things he'd done over the years wasn't helping his mood. Combined with being constantly thrown together with Marian and Robin, seeing them together all the time... it was tiring, to say the least. At least Marian still talked to him. Changed man or not, most of the other locals, Robin's gang included, had not warmed to him yet, and though he couldn't really blame them, he was finding himself rather lonely. He always had been, but under the Sheriff's rule, he'd had mindless tasks that helped him throw up mental walls to block out his unhappiness. Now, all he had was Marian, who was finding herself with less and less time for him as she helped Robin run the village and prepared for her wedding.

It looked as though she had a few moments for him now, though—his expression softened a little as she glanced up at him, quirked a smile at him, and headed towards him, horse in tow. God, but she was gorgeous—her dark hair rippled down her back, she'd left it loose today, and her hips swayed in an easy rhythm that he found hard to ignore as she neared him. He managed to pull himself together as he fell into step beside her, heading for the outskirts of the village.

"Still enjoying him, I see," he said gruffly, nodding at her equine companion.

Marian grinned. "Yes, I'm getting him ready for tomorrow."

Guy raised an eyebrow. "Is there something going on tomorrow that I should be aware of?"

His companion laughed. "Not particularly. An old friend of mine is arriving tomorrow, and is planning to stay for several weeks. She's rather competitive and is a superb horsewoman, we've raced every time we've been together. It's been a few years since I've seen her, but I suspect that a race will still end up in our plans."

"She?"

"Yes, Rachel of Brookfield. I was sent to her family's estate for several months when I was about ten years old, when my mother was ill, and we've visited one another every year ever since."

"She's not travelling alone?"

Marian snorted. "A noblewoman, permitted to travel alone? Honestly, Guy."

He shrugged. "Well, she is a friend to _you_. Such a woman might be the sort to try just the thing."

Marian laughed again, and the corners of Guy's mouth twitched. He did love it when it was he who prompted her laughter. "Clearly, I'll have to introduce you. Though," she added, raising an eyebrow, "she might be too much for you to handle, Guy."

Guy's chin went up. "Even after the Nightwatchman?"

Marian folded her arms and smirked. "You _couldn't_ handle the Nightwatchman, Guy."

He shook his head at her indulgently—he was through fighting with her on that count. They walked in companionable silence for a little while, and though still slightly jealous of the horse (Marian's arm was thrown carelessly across his neck), he couldn't help but be aware that this was the most contented he'd been in several weeks. Even though he was disappointed that her friend's arrival would assuredly take her attention away… well, he did so love to see her smile, and the thought of time with Lady Rachel of Brookfield was achieving that end, so it would have to do.

* * *

Guy awoke to the sound of women's laughter. Groggily pushing his hair back, he dragged himself out of bed and stumbled towards the window, fully prepared tell whichever gossiping idiots had woken him exactly what he thought of their early-morning prattle. "Honestly," he roared, throwing the shutter back, "Don't you have anything…" but the words died on his lips when he realized who, exactly, had woken him.

Marian stood below, grinning up at him from beside a woman he didn't recognize, but surely must be Rachel of Brookfield. Both of them had horses in tow, in addition to an extra—his own big black stallion, Makhara.

Rachel smirked. "Good morning, Sir Guy. Marian warned me but that you might be inhospitable if we woke you so early, but I've heard so much about you that I simply couldn't resist the temptation." Her eyes travelled down his bare chest, then back up to his face, and her grin widened. "I'm so glad I went against Marian's better judgement."

Marian shot a disbelieving look at her friend, momentarily surprised by her guest's audacity, but quickly shrugged it off. "Would you care to go out riding with us? We've taken the liberty of getting your horse ready for you." She and Rachel watched him expectantly, the latter still smirking up at his bare chest.

Guy suddenly felt uncomfortable under the appraising gaze of the newcomer. "Ah, yes, of course. I'll come down directly." Quickly pulling the window shut, Guy turned back into his room and reached for whichever tunic was closest and quickly dragged it over his head before yanking on his boots and staggering down the stairs and out the door to the two women awaiting him.

Surprisingly, it was Lady Rachel who caught his attention first. She'd mounted her horse in the time it had taken him to get downstairs, and he was genuinely thrown by his attraction to her—he'd not really noticed what another woman looked like after his disastrous almost-wedding with Marian. Once he'd had a second to think about it, though, his shock at his own reaction to her became less astonishing. She was slimmer than Marian, more waifish, and her facial features were balanced… she had enough straight lines – a sharply defined jawline and sweeping eyebrows—to give her maturity and elegance, but still had enough soft curves—the jump of her nose, the wide arch of her blue-grey eyes—to flatter her youth and spunk. The way her legs curved around the sides of her mount didn't hurt, either. She was playing with the end of her long gold braid as she spoke gaily down to Marian, who was still on foot, as she was still holding his horse in addition to her own. Both women glanced up and stopped talking as he closed the door behind him.

"Marian," he greeted her shortly, before turning to her companion. Guy bowed low. "Forgive me for being out of sorts a moment ago, I fear I haven't been sleeping well and it's made me ill-tempered in the morning." He straightened. "You are Rachel of Brookfield, I presume?"

"The one and only, Sir Guy of Gisborne," she replied saucily. "Now, I must ask you something before you even bother getting onto that fine big stallion of yours."

"And what is that, my Lady?"

Rachel grinned wickedly and leaned down to look him in the eye—he was tall enough, and her horse short enough, that Guy found himself just inches from her face. "Are you," she said conspiratorially, "man enough to race Lady Marian and me?"

Guy actually laughed aloud—it hadn't been what he was expecting. He glanced her horse up and down as he swung onto Makhara. "That depends. Were you intending to win this race on that little horse of yours?"

All three turned their mounts to the road as Rachel lifted her chin at him. "Certainly. Why, will you not race now, knowing you have no chance of winning?"

Marian laughed as Guy smirked at Rachel's little mare. "You expect that little tiny mare to out run one of the tallest and fastest stallions in Nottingham? I doubt the two of you could outrun Marian's gelding, much less Makhara."

"Ah, so your horse has an Arabic name as well! Please, allow me to introduce Scheherazade, who is actually of Arabian blood. And yes, I assure you, I do expect my—what did you call her? – my 'tiny little mare' to outrun that big, clunky-looking beast of yours."

"Well, let us end this debate now, my friends!" Marian's proclamation was followed by the dust that her bay gelding threw back at them as he and his rider took off. Her companions didn't even need to signal their horses—they were just as eager to run as their riders.

Guy grinned again at the feel of Makhara's muscles bunching beneath him as he threw himself forward—despite his wish that Marian gave him the affection she gave her horses, he did understand her love for them—it was something he felt every time he took his horse out for a run, it forced him to focus on the moment, on keeping in sync with a thousand pounds of fire and wind and hooves and mane. He caught up to Marian and passed her easily—she was a good enough horsewoman, and her companion cocky enough, that he felt no guilt in beating either one of them. He was less than two hundred yards from the road, he and Marian's standard endpoint, when a flash of white caught his glance—Rachel was beside him? But he'd left her behind at the beginning of the race!

"I told you not to underestimate us, Guy!" she shouted to him over the pounding of their horses' hooves.

"The race isn't over yet, Lady Rachel!" he called back, kneading Makhara's neck for more speed.

"I have a confession, Sir Guy," she yelled.

"What's that?"

Rachel grinned sweetly. "I haven't even given her her head yet!" And with that, she dropped the little white mare's reins and Guy watched in disbelief as Marian's slender golden visitor and her little white Arabian horse surged ahead of him as though he and Makhara were standing still, crossing the road with plenty of room to spare and pulling up the little horse. Guy and Marian arrived behind her in quick succession, leaving the three of them in a group, breathing hard. Marian took one look at Guy and started laughing.

"You should see your face, Guy. I told you she was competitive, I warned you."

Guy shrugged. "Clearly, I should have listened more carefully. I ought to know better than to disbelieve you at this point, Marian." He turned to glance at Lady Rachel. "But I never thought it was physically possible for a horse that small to move that fast, even with so light a rider."

Rachel grinned, still breathless. "Never underestimate how powerful something small can be, Sir Guy. Such an assumption will only bring you trouble, even if it's as small a matter as wounded pride and a horserace." She turned Scheherazade and clicked to her, the mare swaying in an easy walk back towards the village, Marian trotting forward a few steps to fall into conversation beside her.

Guy arched an eyebrow and turned to follow the two girls. Perhaps Marian's visitor wouldn't leave him as alone and unstimulated as he had feared.


	2. The Surprises of Rachel of Brookfield

Chapter 2

The Surprises of Rachel of Brookfield

As they neared town, Guy noticed an unfamiliar caravan standing outside of Locksley Manor—clearly, someone Marian was glad to see, as she stood up in her stirrups and waved furiously, a broad grin on her face. "Rachel, you didn't tell me you were bringing along Daniel!" Guy nudged Makhara up into step beside Rachel as Marian cantered ahead to the caravan, jumped down, and threw her arms around the neck of a tall, gangly young man with shaggy brown hair, leaving her horse standing with his reins dangling.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Rachel sighed. She turned and leaned in towards Guy. " She knows full well he's been in love with her for years, and yet she gives him hope anyway, even though she's planning her wedding to somebody else. She _really_ needs to stop doing that. "

"You're quite right," Guy muttered.

"Pardon?"

Guy straightened and shook his head. "Nothing. Who is that, anyway?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "That's my brother, Daniel. My parents always accompany me when I visit Marian, but Dan's stayed home the past few years. He absolutely _adores_ Marian. Most of the time I'm rather fond of him, but he drives me absolutely mad around her. He's too busy trying to show off to actually be any _fun._"

"Don't be too hard on him. Marian has that effect on people."

Rachel glanced up, and Guy thought he saw something like pity flash in her eyes for just an instant. "So I've noticed, Sir Guy." And with that, she swung her gaze back to the caravan, legged her horse into a trot, and caught up with Marian to fall into conversation with her family.

Guy's eyes lingered on Marian for another moment as she continued her lively conversation with Rachel's brother before tearing his gaze away in an attempt to both distract himself and see if he could place the other members of Lady Rachel's family party. The tall, gray-haired gentleman with the dark eyes had a bearing about him that could only mean he was Rachel's father, and her mother _had_ to be the short, slim woman beside him—she and Rachel looked very much alike. There were a handful of servants dressed in matching green livery scattered about, unloading trunks and managing horses. And, there was one other person—a broad-shouldered, narrow-eyed man with a shock of dark hair and wearing a dark cloak. He stood a little ways off from the rest of the group, leaning against a fencepost and watching the bustle around him with a calculating look. Guy felt like he'd seen him before, but couldn't place him.

"Sir Guy! Come and meet Rachel's family!" Marian's voice dragged his attention back to the more distinguished of the visitors. Master Daniel leaned in and whispered something to his sister as he approached, and she responded with a glare and a quick reply that Guy couldn't hear. However, he was pleasant enough when they were introduced—somewhat nonchalant, but that could be written off as his desire to get through the formalities so that he could give his attention back to Marian (It was a desire he could understand perfectly well, he didn't blame the young man in the least.), and Rachel's mother—Lady Genevieve—was rather reserved. Her father, however, was another story. Marian did the honors.

"Might I present Sir John of Brookfield, Sir Guy? Sir John, this is Sir Guy of Gisborne."

The silver-haired man pierced Guy with a cold stare, barely inclining his head in a short bow. He was just as tall as Guy, which was something he was fairly unaccustomed to, and combined with Sir John's stern countenance, Guy was rather uncomfortable. "Welcome to Locksley, Sir John," he coolly greeted the older gentleman, dipping his head in a short bow that mirrored that of Rachel's father.

"Gisborne," Sir John replied. "I've heard so much about you."

_'Damn,'_ Guy thought. "I hope you have a pleasant visit."

Sir John nodded again, eyes still icy, and motioned for his wife and daughter to follow him. Rachel shot him an apologetic glance before linking arms with her brother and following her parents indoors, leaving Marian and Guy alone.

"_That_ went well," he muttered sarcastically, leading Makhara towards the stables. Marian shook her head at him.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Guy. It's going to take time to erase your reputation, and being frazzled about it now isn't going to help." She stopped him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Guy, look at me."

He looked down at her reluctantly. The kindness in her expression was almost too much for him, knowing how little he deserved it, but he managed to keep his eyes on hers as she spoke. "You're going to have to rely on those few who are willing to give you a chance to help you change how you're viewed, Guy. No one said it was going to be easy, but you've made yourself one ally already today, and that's a start, at the very least." She let her hand drop from his shoulder, her fingers drifting over his briefly before closing back over her bay's reins. "Would you mind putting Prince away for me while you're taking Makhara back to the stables? I want to help Rachel unpack."

Guy wordlessly held out his free hand for the horse's reins, and Marian smiled a quick "Thank you" at him before heading back towards the house. Guy started to turn towards the stables, but caught sight of the man in the dark cloak again—he still hadn't moved. "Marian, wait one moment," he called after her. She looked over her shoulder, dark hair swinging, and he beckoned her back over to the horses, waiting until she was at his side again to question her in a low voice. "Do you know who that man is?" he asked, indicating the dark figure.

Marian glanced over Makhara's withers. "No, I've never seen him before. I thought he might have been with you, actually. You don't know who he is?" Guy shook his head, and Marian shrugged. "Well, when you find out, let me know." And with that, she left him standing alone with the two horses and a great deal to think about.

* * *

After he'd put the horses away, Guy went back to Locksley Manor, looking for Robin—though they were still far from being friends, the young man usually was usually willing to play chess with him most mornings, as they were really the only two in the village who were a match for one another when it came down to pure wit. Passing a doorway as he walked down the hall, though, he paused at the sound of Rachel's raised voice, muffled by the door, but nonetheless clearly irritated.

"… will go out riding with whomever I please, Father!"

"Rachel, do you not know who that man is? What he has _done_ with his life, and more importantly, to other people?"

Guy groaned silently to himself. He suspected the loss of one of his only allies in the course of the next minute and a half. Well, it had been nice while it had lasted.

"Father, you know full well that I know _exactly_ what he's done with his life." Guy's head shot up. She _what? _Rachel's voice continued through the door. "He's threatened to torture and kill children, _has _tortured and killed countless innocents, made an attempt on the life of the king, and tried to force Marian to marry him." Guy's knees threatened to give, and he sank to the floor—he knew how bad it was, but it just sounded so much worse in the voice of a woman. "He also risked his life to betray and bring down Vasey, Father. He's done nothing since that to suggest that he's not really a changed man, and until I see otherwise, I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt."

Guy's mouth fell open in silent shock. This woman barely knew him, and she was fighting a father to whom she was clearly very close in his defense? He could hear Sir John's ragged sigh even through the door. "I can see there will be no talking you out of this. But Rachel, please, be careful. I worry that he's still not to be trusted. Please, at least do that for me?"

"Of course, Father."

**Author's note: See, I knew I could get a new chapter up by the end of the week! (Please ignore the fact that it's technically Monday, as I'm uploading this at one in the morning. Ahem.) Anyway, I'll be out of town next week, so it might take a little longer to actually _post_, but I'll be on vacation, so hopefully I'll be able to get several chapters written and then I'll be able to set all of you up for awhile. Thanks so much for reading! ~Grace  
**


	3. The Choices of Guy of Gisborne

**Author's Note: Back from Florida! As promised, I did in fact get a good long chapter written. Enjoy, and let the politics begin! (Also, review. I love reviews. Oh, and I think I'm supposed to say that the Robin Hood characters aren't mine. But Rachel, Daniel and company are. And Malveillant. He's mine too.)**

Chapter 3

The Choices of Guy of Gisborne

Guy was leaning back in his chair at the head of the table in his small house on the outskirts of the village, playing both sides of a chessboard, when the knock came. "Enter," he called, vaguely surprised—he didn't often get visitors. It was probably Robin, at this time of night. He heard footsteps enter the room without looking up from his game. "What do you want at this hour?"

"What, a visit to a long-missed relative has to come at a certain hour?" The voice was coldly amused, and Guy sat up quickly, turning to face his visitor—it was the dark-cloaked man he and Marian had noticed that morning. "I'm afraid I don't—"

The man smiled nastily and took a step closer. "What, you don't recognize your cousin Gaspard, Gisborne?"

Guy narrowed his eyes, looking closer. That scar, just under his left eyebrow, from the fight they'd gotten into when they were children… his face was sunken in a little and his stubble and long dark hair had disguised him, but now that Guy knew what he was looking for, he couldn't believe he hadn't recognized him immediately. "Malveillant," he replied, standing. "It's been years."

"Indeed, but I've heard so much about what you've been doing here over the last ten years or so." Malveillant's grin was too white, it looked unnatural. "Most impressive. Potentially useful, even."

Guy was instantly on his guard. Malveillant clearly hadn't heard the details of his betrayal of the Sheriff, and he was dangerous. The image of Allan, standing atop Nottingham Castle dressed as the Nightwatchman while Marian looked on in shock flitted quickly through his mind. _You have to play the game,_ he thought grimly. "Thank you. But don't say too much, the locals couldn't prove anything they could potentially execute me or exile me with."

Gaspard nodded approvingly. "So I've been told—at least that you'd been living peacefully among the locals. _Such _a low profile." He leaned closer. "Could prove useful. Now, my dear cousin, I wonder—might we put your skills back in practice? There would be _quite _the profit in it for you and the rest of the family."

_Play the game. You have to find out what he's planning. Play the game_.

Guy affected the smirk of malicious pleasure he'd once perfected under Vasey and leaned back in his chair again, nodding. "What did you have in mind?"

* * *

Guy woke the next day with a blistering headache—his encounter the night before had kept him up until the early hours of the morning, and he was too tense to actually sleep for any length of time (not that this was any real change from the everyday). He groaned and rubbed his temples. God, but he needed some air. And something to distract him for a little while—he needed to let his decision about what to do lie before he started figuring _out_ what to do. Perhaps going out riding would help. He couldn't go alone, he'd just get lost in the dark recesses of his thoughts again… he'd have to see if Marian would go with him.

She was sitting beside Robin near the head of the wide oak table that graced Locksley Manor's dining hall. Lady Rachel and her brother sat on the hearth, Daniel's chessboard out before them, both siblings looking serious and contemplative as they eyed the board. Guy leaned against the doorframe for a moment, surveying the scene before him, until Robin glanced up and took notice of him.

"Gisborne! You're about early today, aren't you?"

"Not too early, as everyone else is already up and about as well, Locksley," he replied, nodding to the others. Daniel raised a hand in greeting but didn't look up from his game, and Rachel didn't do anything other than chew on her forefinger for a moment and then nudge her queen forward two squares. _Strategy. Cunning._

"Actually," he continued calmly, pushing the thought of Malveillant back, "I was wondering if Marian might like to take the horses out for a morning run." His eyes drifted over her as he spoke… she was looking fetching in a form-fitting blue gown that showed her collarbones today, and would certainly be an effective distraction. There was no chance of his thinking of Gaspard if he went out with _her._

She tilted her head and grinned apologetically. "I'm sorry, Guy, I can't—Robin and I are just in the middle of working out some of the details of the wedding." Over her shoulder, Robin shot him a triumphant smirk before leaning over and kissing Marian on the mouth, making her laugh and swat him away—but not before she'd kissed him back. Thoroughly.

Guy cringed inwardly. He hated it when Robin baited him like that. "Never mind. I… I'll see you later this afternoon."

"I'll go."

Guy stopped halfway back over the threshold and turned back to see Rachel rising from her seat on the hearthstones, looking disgustedly down at her brother, who snickered at her. She rolled her eyes and started towards Guy, throwing her hands in the air. "I need to get out of here anyway. The lovebirds over there are beginning to make me ill" (Marian chortled at this) "and that's the third time this morning that Dan's trounced me in chess in four moves." At this, she shot her brother a last glare as he flashed his teeth at her innocently, and she was out the door and halfway to the stables before Guy even had time to think about it.

* * *

Ten minutes later, a still slightly befuddled Guy was riding down the North Road beside Rachel and Scheherazade. The fair-haired girl had been lightheartedly teasing him from the moment they'd walked out the door, and thought it wasn't quite what he'd had in mind when he'd gone in search of a distraction, it was certainly effective. As Rachel told him a silly story from her childhood (she and Daniel had apparently decided to become the manor "ghosts" in their home in Brookfield when they were younger), Guy felt a sudden stroke of guilt. At first, he didn't recognize it as such—usually the guilt he felt was in regard to his past, and was thus much deeper and more difficult to remedy. This, though—it was just a quick stab. Lady Rachel had been so good to him since her arrival, from going out with him this morning to her heated discussion with her father in his defense, and he'd been nothing but inhospitable, and had passed over all of her kindnesses without even acknowledging them to himself, much less her. He now found himself _wanting_ to acknowledge her—something had to be done.

"Thank you for coming out with me," he told her as she finished her story. She glanced over at him in surprise—he belatedly supposed that his comment sounded like it had come out of nowhere—but then she smiled. "You're welcome," she replied, then laughed. "Besides, I appreciate your company . I always visited Marian in Knighton, so this is only the second time I've been here and I don't know my way around very well." She grinned brightly and batted her eyelashes teasingly at him. "I'd be so _lost_ without you, Sir Guy."

Guy laughed. "Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Lady Rachel." Then the implication of her response hit him. "Wait, when did you last visit here, then? I don't recall ever seeing you here before."

Rachel's face slowly closed off as he spoke, and her shoulders were rigid by the time he'd finished his question. He waited a moment, but she didn't relax, so he tried again. "Rachel?"

"I shouldn't have mentioned that I was here at all," she said shortly.

"Rachel." His voice was gentle. "Tell me?"

She sighed. "I came for Marian's wedding."

"But Marian's not married ye--" he stopped, becoming suddenly very interested in the ground. _That_ wedding. "Oh."

She looked over at him, her eyes pitying. "I'm sorry, Guy."

He laughed bitterly. "Why?" _I don't deserve your pity_, he thought. God, she'd _been_ there. He practically rather she'd witnessed him burning Marian's home to the ground.

"Nonetheless," she replied softly. "Seeing you that day is the reason I decided to think well of you now."

He didn't look at her. "Why?" he asked again.

He almost thought he heard pain in her voice when she replied. "I saw the way you looked at her." She smiled humorlessly. "Nobody's ever looked at me like that."

They rode on in silence for a few moments, and Guy thought about what she'd said. He'd always feared that people thought he only wanted to _possess _Marian, but Rachel had clearly seen something more. And she'd been watching _him_, not her childhood friend—why? His fingers tightened on the reins and Makhara tossed his head and danced sideways, and their contemplative silence was broken as Rachel snorted. "Guy, _what_ are you doing to that horse?"

"Nothing," he replied irritably (though secretly glad for the change of subject). "He's always like this, it's just the way he is."

She shook her head. "No, he's not. He's just like Scheherazade, just bigger and not nearly as sneaky as she is."

He looked disbelievingly at Rachel's elegant, obedient little mare, who was relaxed and had her nose tucked neatly into her chest—she was even so smooth-gaited that Rachel was sitting on her bareback and hadn't been thrown off balance once. "I think you overestimate him."

She rolled her eyes. "You've so little faith." She pointed ahead to a clearing off to the right side of the road. "Let's go over there, and then you need to get down." He raised his eyebrows, and she gestured grandly toward the clearing. "I'm quite serious."

Guy shrugged and did as he was told. Rachel shoved Scheherazade's reins into his hands the minute his feet hit the ground, and was on Makhara's back before he could protest—he supposed he shouldn't be surprised at how quickly she made decisions and carried them out anymore. She didn't say anything to him, she was already completely focused on his horse.

He couldn't tell what she was doing, but he could see its effects on Makhara. First, he jerked his head up, then forward, trying to snatch the reins. He danced sideways (an impressive feat for a horse of his bulk) and tried to bolt forward. Rachel hardly seemed to move—her legs hung straight down and her shoulders were perfectly relaxed. Gradually, Makhara settled down and was finally still, his head tucked into his chest, just like Scheherazade's always was. Rachel smiled and patted the stallion's dark neck, quietly praising him. She nudged the horse into a walk, and he obeyed immediately, continuing to behave perfectly as she put him through to a trot and then a canter. Guy's jaw dropped—Makhara's big, heavy frame was suddenly graceful and elegant—he'd always had such choppy movements before. Rachel finally brought him to a halt and grinned broadly, vigorously scratching the tall horse's ears and patting him before jumping down.

"How did you do that?" Guy asked, still in awe.

Her eyes sparkled. "I convinced him that he wanted to do what's best for him. It's healthier for him if he tucks his head in and uses his back properly." She handed the reins back to him, then used a nearby tree stump to spring gracefully back onto Scheherazade's bare back. "Get back on, I'm giving you a riding lesson." Guy obeyed. Makhara tried to break into a trot when he was only halfway into the saddle, and Guy growled in frustration as Rachel laughed. "Make him stop for a moment."

He somehow managed to bring the big horse to a halt and turned to look at Rachel. "All right, Guy. How do you stay on that horse?" she asked amusedly.

He stared at her. "Um… by hanging on with my legs?"

"And to get him to move forward, how do you tell him to do that?"

"… by squeezing him forward with my legs."

"Sounds like the same command to me. How do you tell him to stop?"

"I lean back and pull on the reins."

"Do you see the problem yet?"

Guy looked at her, perplexed. "What?"

"Think about it. If you hang on with your legs to stay on—which means the same thing as 'go'—and you're doing that even when you're pulling on the reins and telling him 'stop'—you're telling him 'stop' and 'go' at the same time." Comprehension dawned on Guy and Rachel smiled wryly. "I'd throw my head in the air and try to buck you off, too."

Well, he couldn't fault her logic. She spent the next half hour trying to get him to relax his legs (so he wasn't hanging on the horse's sides) and drop his shoulders and straighten his spine so he could begin to get the tall stallion to engage his back like he'd done for Rachel, but Guy just didn't have the knack for it. Finally, Rachel sighed in exasperation and she slid down from her mare's back.

"What are you doing?" he demanded. She didn't reply until she was standing beside Makhara, and she yanked Guy's foot out of his stirrup. "I'm showing you how to hold yourself." She stuck her foot in the stirrup, reached around him to grab a handful of Makhara's mane, and hauled herself up to sit behind him.

"Now," she said, reaching around his waist and closing her hands over his, "loosen your fingers. You don't need to pull on his mouth—remember, you've got a bit of metal stuck in there. If he had one of those in your mouth and kept yanking on it, you wouldn't like it either." She used her fingers to ease his off the reins until he was barely touching them, then she let go to rest her hands on his thighs. "Your legs should be so loose and relaxed," she continued, tugging at his knees, "that I should be able to pull them off the saddle with no effort at all." Guy was hardly processing a word of what she was saying—she was flush against his back, and he couldn't remember ever being manhandled like this before, though he vaguely registered through his now-hazed brain that he didn't _mind_ this riding lesson, not one bit. He was briefly shocked out of his reverie as she reached up to place her left hand on his abdomen and her right between his shoulder blades and shoved, forcing him to sit up straight and sending a wave of electricity down his spine. "This time," she said, "stay just like this when you ask him to go forward. Trust that he'll behave, you don't have to hang on him. Just barely give him a gentle walk signal and just _stay relaxed._" Oh, he was relaxed. He did as he was told and he dimly noticed that she was right, Makhara was more obedient and his gait was smoother, but was far more aware of Rachel's hands at his waist and her legs against his as she moved in time with him to the movement of the horse's walk, then trot. They went all the way around the outer edge of the clearing twice that way, Scheherazade grazing lazily in the center, before Rachel gently told him to close his fingers to ask Makhara to stop.

It wasn't until hours later that Guy remembered that they'd gone out so he could forget Malveillant. _Impressive_, he mused—if he ever needed to forget something for days on end, all he'd need to do would be to ask Lady Rachel (or Lady Marian, for that matter—now _there _was an idea) for a cantering lesson. _Good Lord_.

**post-chapter A/N: I love reviews. And if you know what discipline of horseback riding Rachel's trying to teach Guy, then virtual cake to you and I might even write you a oneshot at your requst if you so desire. ;)**

**Thanks for reading!  
**

**xx Grace  
**


	4. Evasions, Chess, and Other Upsets

**Author's note: First, I apologize for the delay! I have spent the last few weeks finishing up a plethora of papers for my Master's degree. However, now it's finished, and I have my Master's in hand, so hopefully I'll not be delayed any more!**

**Plus, there's a bonus going on now... I recently took on the role of Marian in a stage production of Robin Hood! You know that'll be motivating!**

**Best! ~Grace  
**

Chapter 4

Evasion, Chess, and Other Upsets

It had been some time since Guy had panicked about anything, but he was certainly on the verge of it now as he attempted to remain stealthy as he searched the remnants of the old Sherwood hideout belonging to Robin and his gang, and he hoped to God that Robin hadn't emptied it entirely. He knew that Djaq had kept the formulas for Greek fire somewhere—the stories of the mercenaries who had been paid to kill Robin just before Guy and the Sheriff had taken Marian to Acre had not escaped him. He actually found himself praying that the ledger was still here. If it wasn't, Malveillant would have no use for him, and Guy would have no way of stopping his cousin.

If he found the ledger, though…

Gaspard, who had been a great advocate of the Sheriff's, had been infuriated that King Richard had outlived Vasey. (It was a miracle that he'd not yet discovered who, exactly, had killed the Sheriff in the first place.) It was now his plan to take down the King on his own, and he liked the idea of the Greek fire—it kept him at a distance, and therefore reduced his chances of being killed himself in any kind of struggle. However, Guy had no doubt that his cousin would use one of his multiple alternate plans if the explosives failed for any reason. And to succeed with the Greek fire, he needed Guy—which gave Gisborne a great deal of power, ironically, now that he no longer wanted it.

If Guy found that ledger, he'd be able to track where Malveillant was keeping the explosives as the older man moved them stealthily across the country. With any luck, he'd also find a way to get rid of the stuff—and Gaspard and his band of remaining Black Knights, for that matter—before they reached the King or thought up something even more dangerous to England. On the other hand, if he didn't find the ledger…

Well, Guy was under no illusions. He had no doubt that Malveillant would kill him for knowing too much without so much as a second thought.

On his way back, Guy was so distracted that he barely even realized that anyone else was nearby until he and Robin had run into one another. However, it was more the sound of laughter—Rachel's and Daniel's, specifically—that pulled him out of his reverie.

Guy braced himself for Robin's – irritation—but the young man shrugged him off without a word and stalked off towards Sherwood. Guy watched him go, and by the time he'd turned back towards the village, Rachel and Daniel were beside him. He raised an eyebrow quizzically, jerking his head back at Robin in a wordless question. Rachel smirked and Daniel grinned smugly. "Turns out Rachel isn't the only one I can beat in chess in less than ten moves," the young man informed him arrogantly.

Despite the continued adrenaline high from his foray in Robin's camp, Guy actually laughed. "You beat _Robin_?" he asked admiringly. He looked back around, but Robin had disappeared already. "No one _ever_ beats Robin at chess."

"They do now!" Rachel trilled gaily.

Guy couldn't help but smile at her amusement as she fell into step beside him. "Where have you been, Sir Guy? I haven't seen you all morning."

Gisborne's face smoothed over, going virtually blank in a matter of seconds. It was a trick he'd perfected with Vasey, this ability to sweep any kind of reaction or emotion from his face. He feigned nonchalance with practiced ease as he told Rachel he'd just gone out to practice with his knife and to clear his head. The fact that she accepted this tale without question made him feel even worse than he had when _delivering_ his story—Rachel was someone he'd rather not lie to. He didn't like being underhanded with Marian, either, but with Rachel—well, he had a clean slate with her, and some part of him had wanted to keep it that way. Nothing could be done, though—he couldn't very well tell her the truth without putting her in danger.

They were nearly back to Locksley when they found Marian. As she waved at them, Daniel turned to his sister with a mischievous smile and gave her a shove. "Rach, I'll consider you redeemed for that last terrible chess match if you can take Marian down!"

Guy looked at him in startled disbelief as Marian laughed, calling "I heard that!" in Dan's direction. As the girls looked one another up and down—Guy couldn't believe they were taking Daniel seriously—the young man leaned in towards him without taking his eyes off of the women and whispered, "Don't look so shocked, Guy, they've done this for years—how do you think Marian polished that Nightwatchman bit she used to like so much?"

Once Daniel's attention was entirely refocused on Rachel and Marian—well, mostly Marian, to be fair—Guy used the opportunity to readjust the ledger beneath his coat, as his brush with Robin had dislodged it. Once his attention was back on the girls, though, he was once again thoroughly distracted from any thought remotely related to Malveillant or Greek fire.

Marian and Rachel were both wearing very slight smiles, and though they were both outwardly relaxed, Guy could tell that they were both ready to move at a second's notice—and good thing, too. It happened in an instant—Marian dropped to the ground like lightning and swept her foot out towards Rachel, trying to take the other girl's legs out from under her. She was partly successful—Rachel jumped to avoid her foot, but Marian's arm caught her behind the ankle and she fell to her knees, by which point Marian was already getting back up. Rachel was quick, too, though—just as Marian steadied herself in her newly upright position, Rachel turned her trick back on her, grabbing her behind her left knee and yanking upward hard. Marian landed equally hard, and then it was over—their encounter had only taken a few seconds. The girls, laughing, helped one another up, and Marian turned to Daniel. "You owe her now, Dan! No chess commentary this week!"

"No fair! She didn't beat you, Marian!"

"You only told me I had to take her down," Rachel pointed out. "If you recall, I wasn't the only one on the ground."

Dan grumbled to himself, and the girls giggled again, linked arms, and once again began their walk towards Locksley Manor, chatting merrily about Robin's chess loss that morning. Guy followed them—those two women never ceased to amaze him. He'd really have to remember to avoid irritating either of them. He shook his head in defeat—he'd never figure them out—and turned off in search of a place to hide that damned ledger.


	5. Of Dreams and Reaching

**A/N: Hello, loves! See, I told you I'd be able to post more frequently now that I was done with school! Leave me some reviews... they motivate me and I write more. Also, this isn't entirely set in stone yet-- I know where it's going, but I have some leeway-- so if you have suggestions/things you want to see, let me know and I'll see what I can do!**

**Much joy! ~Grace  
**

Chapter 5

Of Dreams and Reaching

_ Marian stands before him, looking like some angel sent to torment him in her white Saracen garments, her hands in the air as he stalks toward the fallen King Richard._

_ "All this time I've been fighting for England. Do you think I'm just going to let you kill England?"_

_ He is frustrated, so frustrated, by her desperation—doesn't she understand? If he does this, they can have anything. "Get out of the way!"_

_ She barely gets out of the way of his sword stroke in time, but she doesn't back down, and he's horrified by her smile as she replies: "You'll have to kill me first."_

_He shakes his head, still advancing on her. "No. I'm going to do this thing... Then I'll have power beyond measure, and we _will_ be together." He has focus, drive. He wants this, because then he can have _her, _and that's really all that matters. But he's stopped by her laughter. And then the words come, and it's as though she's turned his sword back on him and run him through with it._

_"I would rather die than be with you, Guy of Gisborne."_

_It's the use of his full name that brings it home. White heat blinds him and there's a dull roar in his ears, and desperation renders him senseless—the only thing that cuts through his agony is Marian's voice as she continues. "I'm going to marry Robin Hood." She catches her lower lip between her teeth as a soft smile crosses her face, and the knife in his heart twists, he can tell through his own overwhelming emotions that she's just been taken somewhere far away with hers, and she's not even seeing him any more as she finishes softly to herself. "I love Robin Hood… I love Robin Hood."_

_He can't take it anymore—the pressure coming in from all sides forces him to his knees, and he vaguely registers hearing his sword clatter against the ground. He can dimly see Marian as she kneels beside King Richard, protecting him with her own form—but from what? He hears hoofbeats behind him, someone dismounting, and a voice he's come to loathe._

_"Get up, Gisborne, what are you waiting for? Get the leper out of the way and finish this!"_

_The reference to Marian as a leper is all it takes for Guy to be completely overwhelmed by her rejection—it's them, he and Vasey, who are the lepers—their fault Marian doesn't want him, Vasey's fault for making him this way… He doesn't even stop to think before lashing out with his weapon, and the Sheriff of Nottingham crumples and falls to the ground. Guy doesn't see it, though—his sword has fallen with the Sheriff and Guy is on his hands and knees now, struggling to breathe and unable to hold back his sobs. The world settles back in around him as he registers Marian's arms around him and her fingers in his hair as she soothes him. "Shh, Guy, I'm so sorry… it's over… shh." He leans into her embrace, arms coming to rest loosely around her waist. "I'm so sorry, Guy, I didn't mean that, I just had to stop you."_

_His fingers grasp at her hip, and his says his next words into her shoulder, for he can't look her in the eye. "But you are marrying Hood."_

_Her embrace tightens around him for just an instant, and her answer is barely a breath, but he can't pretend he doesn't hear it._

_"Yes."_

x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x

Guy woke with a start, covered in cold sweat. Shoulders heaving, he buried his face in his hands. He hated the nightmares about Acre—it hadn't been a day he cared to experience again, but it haunted him. Robin and his band had found he and Marian soon after he'd killed Vasey, and Marian had lied for him—King Richard had been in too much pain to register what was being said during Guy and Marian's confrontation, and as such, never offered an alternate sequence of events. She had told everyone that he'd come looking for her and had killed Vasey when the Sheriff had attempted to go through her to bring down the King. Guy couldn't be sure what else she had said, but she must have lauded him somehow, because no mention was ever made of his transgressions under Vasey's rule.

He'd had the nightmare about Acre often since their return to England, but the dream had seemed worse—and it was certainly even more frequent—since his reunion with Malveillant. He hated the feeling of betraying Marian, even though he knew he was working in conjunction with his cousin for the greater good. Despite her having chosen Robin—which he could understand, notwithstanding his desperate wish that she might have chosen him instead—Marian was his rock, his redemption. He wanted to tell her about his cousin's plan so badly, but she was worth too much to him to risk her life by drawing her in.

It was no use trying to sleep again after that dream, he knew—he hadn't been lying the morning he'd met Rachel, he really hadn't been sleeping well. Guy got up and crossed to the far corner of his room and pried loose one of the wooden slats in the ceiling, pulling out Djaq's ledger, bringing it to his desk and opening it. He wished he understood enough to have made the stuff himself—it would have been easier to keep an eye on—but the alternative would have to do. He'd written out a copy of the ledger and had sent it on to Malveillant's chemist, with explicit instructions to destroy it once the explosives were made—to prevent a spare copy that could potentially be stolen from going into circulation, of course. The chemist, James Maslen, was stationed much further north, in Leeds, so that he could work on the Greek fire without being detected or raising suspicion of any kind. It made Guy nervous—it would be all too easy for Maslen to keep or just make an alternate copy of the plans, and he especially disliked being so far away. As soon as the explosives were on the move, he'd find a way to get to them—he needed to be with them often to see how well they were guarded, and the moment he got the chance to detonate the stuff safely and ensure that Malveillant was taken care of, he'd need to take it—whether he was in the line of fire himself or not.

Guy pushed his chair back and sighed—he was getting nowhere. He carefully replaced the ledger and threw on his boots and tunic, reaching for his coat as he headed out the door with the vague idea that he might visit Makhara.

When he reached the stables, though, he found the door already ajar. He tensed—Gaspard liked to show up in strange places, and had an uncanny knack for knowing where Guy was—but his fears melted into amused surprise as the sound of a woman singing reached his ears. He pushed the door open as quietly as he could, slipped inside, then followed the music to its source.

Lady Rachel was sitting on the floor of Scheherazade's stall, crooning an Irish ballad to the horse as the little grey mare pulled wisps of hay out of her mistress's lap. It took the young woman a moment to notice Guy's presence, and she stopped abruptly and blushed when she finally saw him.

"Why did you stop? You sounded lovely," he told her with a smile.

Rachel shrugged, still flushed. "I don't know. Nobody's ever caught me doing this before." She glanced up into Scheherazade's face. "It's usually just the two of us."

"I can go."

"No, no." She stood quickly, brushing the remaining strands of hay out of her lap. "Why are _you_ here in the middle of the night, Sir Guy?"

He sighed and sat down on a bale of hay outside Makhara's stall, and Rachel sat down beside him. "I couldn't sleep."

"Acre again?"

Guy looked at her sharply, but her gaze didn't waver. "You're very perceptive, Rachel of Brookfield."

She smiled wryly. "Marian tells me a great deal. It's not difficult to put the pieces together."

"I'll bet _you_ never have trouble sleeping," he muttered with a derisive chuckle, half directed at the floor and half directed at his companion.

"I'm out here in the middle of the night too, aren't I?" Guy looked back up at her, and Rachel sighed. "We all have our ghosts, Sir Guy."

He nodded silently without enquiring further, and it wasn't until morning that Marian found them, side by side on the hay bale asleep, Rachel's head resting against Guy's shoulder.


End file.
